


Locked Out, Locked In

by MistyMountainHop



Category: That '70s Show
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15111575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyMountainHop/pseuds/MistyMountainHop
Summary: Jackie confronts Hyde at the Fotohut months after their first real kiss, but he locks her out in every possible way.





	Locked Out, Locked In

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** _That '70s Show_ copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC.
> 
> **Author's Note** This story was written for the 2018 _Zenmasters Anthology_ on tumblr.

  


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**drawings by[thalle-my-honey](https://www.deviantart.com/thalle-my-honey) / [sup-honey](https://sup-honey.tumblr.com)**

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**LOCKED OUT, LOCKED IN**

Working the graveyard shift at the Fotohut was a snooze. That was how Leo sold it to Hyde months ago, and he'd spoken truth. Hyde would prop himself on a stool, lean on the drive-through counter, and fall asleep. He'd wake when someone tapped on the window pane, usually the delivery guy from the photo-processing lab. His shift would end a half-hour later.

Easy-peasy paycheck.

Hyde followed the same routine tonight, used the drive-through counter as a pillow. Fell asleep with his denim jacket as a blanket, but vibrations on the window ended his sack time.

The wake-up call was too early for the delivery guy. Had to be a customer, and Hyde blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. People who dropped off film at this hour were usually laid back, but he shut off the Fotohut's radio. The customer might be a thief, and whatever cues Hyde heard could save his ass.

He forced cheerfulness into his face. No reason he couldn't smile while being robbed. He looked out the drive-through window, and Jackie's face stared back at him.

His smile rotted, becoming a grimace. She was the last person he'd expected to see. Wanted to see, but her image shot through his retinas like a bullet. Blinding himself with the ceiling lights wouldn't help. She was embedded in his brain—her flushing cheeks, curly brown hair pulled into a ponytail, and little make-up. Coming here must've been a last-minute decision.

"Steven, I have to talk to you."

His heartbeat revved past a hundred, and he locked the drive-through window. He darted to the other end of the Fotohut, but his feet tripped on his denim jacket. He kicked it aside and stumbled to the door. The lock above the knob crackled as he turned it. Leo never used the top lock during his shifts, and Hyde had picked up the habit, but that was over. Monsters lurked outside.

"Steven!" Jackie said and knocked on the drive-through window. "This is important!"

He rushed to the photo-sorting counter and opened the utility drawer. Leo kept his stash of work-joints inside, but Hyde found a roll of masking tape. Jackie shouted at him as he taped his jacket in front of her face. The drive-through window was blocked. He couldn't see outside anymore, and she couldn't see him.

But he'd watched her uncomfortably all week. She'd put Kelso through a battery of tests, to learn if Kelso was worthy of dating again. Hyde had attempted to sabotaged him, but she seemed determined to take Kelso back, STDs and all.

Making stupid choices was her right, but not wasting his time was Hyde's. He'd tried to show her the truth about Kelso repeatedly. Told her she could do better. Risked his neck for her, which he'd still do without hesitation, but the rest of him was off-limits. Their kiss a few months ago had clinched how he felt about her.

And she felt that way about a moron.

Hyde sank onto the stool by the drive-through counter. Jackie had quit shouting, meaning he could catch up on his Zs, but the Fotohut door rattled.

"Crap." He'd get no sleep with that racket. Jackie needed to go, and he went to the door. "Knock off the knocking!"

"Let me in. Please!"

"Your life in danger?"

"Yes!"

"You're lying!"

"Steven!"

Hyde brought the Fotohut's radio to a shelf by the door, plugged it in, and cranked it up. For added insurance, he turned on the thirteen-inch TV. It sat on the drive-through counter, and he pulled his stool to the middle of the Fotohut.

A moat of sound surrounded him. From the radio, the Rolling Stones' "Beast of Burden" competed with REO Speedwagon's "Roll with the Changes" on TV. _The Midnight Special_ was the only decent show at this hour, but two songs cramming his ears were better than one Jackie.

He crossed his arms on the photo-sorting counter and laid his head on them. His body drifted into semi-slumber, but his mind pushed out thoughts like ticker tape, an endless stream of nonsense. He couldn't stop it, but some kind of force slammed against the Fotohut wall. Sounded like a sledgehammer, and another slam shoved him off the stool. He dropped to the floor, fully awake. Jackie was going to smash her way to him and, maybe, his skull.

Boxes of film fell from lower shelves with the third slam. Cameras on high shelves bounced with the fourth, and he grabbed as many as he could before the fifth. He placed them on the floor, in the corner, but the ceiling lights flickered at the sixth slam.

They shut off at the seventh. She'd knocked out the damn electricity. The TV was blank. The radio had gone silent, but the clink of fingernails on glass broke the quiet.

He trudged toward the sound in the darkness. Each step struck the floor harder than the next, and he tore his jacket from the drive-through window. Streetlamps brightened the Fotohut from the outside, lit Jackie from behind. But her hand hovered in front of the window, unmoving, as if paralyzed by his glare.

Questions clambered up his throat. Only one escaped: "What the hell did you do to the 'hut?"

"I-I kicked it."

"You kicked it?" He gripped the drive-through counter and shook his head slightly. "That was—you freakin' kicked it?" Her leg … cheerleading had transformed it into a wrecking ball, but maybe he hadn't heard her right. Her voice was muffled by the closed window. "You kicked it," he said again, loudly, and she nodded.

His skin prickled. He'd been so close to letting her in that autumn night, after their kiss. For some reason, she wanted in now, but she'd kicked him into an endless winter. "If you expect me to celebrate your new commitment to Kelso, you're out of your mind."

"No."

"No?"

"Michael and I aren't together. I can't stop thinking about us—you and me, Steven. Our date, our kiss..." Her fingers touched her lips. "Actually, more your _reaction_ to our kiss, when I asked if you'd felt anything: 'Uh … no. Well? … No.'"

His neck grew hot. "Is that supposed to be me?" he said with a laugh, but she'd done a perfect imitation. He'd gone over his reaction himself, enough times to be embarrassed by it.

She pressed her palm against the drive-through window, as if trying to reach him. "I couldn't take Michael back. I've been so focused on another boy that it wouldn't be fair."

She paused, but he said nothing. Didn't press his own hand to the window, even though his muscles twitched with his desire to do it.

_"And,"_ she continued, "I realized he's still an idiot. That I was about to make the same, huge mistake I'd made the first time. I can't date a fantasy, Steven." She removed her hand from the window, but her handprint remained on the glass. "So I decided to see him clearly, just like I see you clearly. You lied about how you felt about the kiss."

His skin prickled again. "Go home, Jackie."

"Even if you won't admit it, I lied, too."

He stiffened as his breath lodged in his chest. _She'd lied._ Blood roared in his ears and coursed hotly through his veins. _She'd fucking lied._ Hope rammed his defenses, but his lungs would catch fire before he surrendered.

"While we were kissing..." She glanced down and spoke softly, no match for his throbbing pulse, He stepped closer to the window. He had to hear her, and his stomach pushed against the drive-through counter, forcing out his breath.

"—your rejections ran through my mind," she said. "I knew I had to stop shoving myself on you. Stop twisting you into my fantasy. Because, unlike Michael, you were changing because of it." She looked up, and the sadness in her eyes strangled his guts. "You went on a date you didn't want to go on. You kissed a girl you didn't want to kiss … so I said I felt nothing. Because you deserve to be with someone you actually love."

He swallowed, but his throat grew thick. She'd put him first. She'd bailed on them for his sake, not hers.

"But days later," she went on, "your reaction to our kiss repeated in my head. Obnoxiously." She tapped her temple. "Repeated and repeated, and I tried to shut it up with other boys. With cheerleading. With Michael, which should tell you how desperate I was to forget it. Because I was starting to have hope … and hope and fantasy feel awfully similar."

"I know," he said, and his fist clenched at his side.

She moved closer to the window, and her breath fogged the glass. "Do you see now why I had to talk to you? I have to find out the truth, no matter what it is. You're the only boy I want to be with, but Michael and I are completely over. So don't tell me 'the right thing' because you're afraid I'll go back to him. Tell me the truth."

Hyde's mouth opened and dried out. He was gaping at her, but light from the streetlamps formed an angelic halo around her body. She'd sacrificed what she wanted for him, and what— _who_ —she wanted was him.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Stars exploded behind them, matching the sensation assaulting his stomach. If this was what happiness felt like, it was sickening. It was terrifying, and he had no intention of giving it up.

He unlocked the drive-through window, but it wouldn't open. He pulled on it harder, and it moved an inch. Only room enough for his fingers to poke through. The window had to be rusted, but the sound of Jackie's breathing entered the Fotohut. She was waiting for his response.

His lips slid into a grin. He leaned against the counter and spoke through the opening: "Ever fool around in an electricity-deprived Fotohut?"

"I don't just want to fool around. I want to date you."

Sweat broke out beneath his shirt. He felt hot and cold at once, and he stood up straight. "Ever have a second date in an electricity-deprived Fotohut?"

"Would we be exclusive?"

"Yeah."

"You liked the kiss."

"Yeah."

"You lied because I did." Her eyebrows rose at her own words. "Because you thought I wasn't interested, and you were afraid of embarrassing yourself."

He scratched his cheek and bit down a laugh. She was sharp as hell. Brave as hell, and he needed to catch up. "Go around back. I'll open the door."

She smiled at him before disappearing from the window. He took his jacket from the floor. It would make a decent picnic blanket, and he dropped it on the sorting counter. As for their picnic, his late-night snack of potato chips and root beer would have to do. Not ideal, but Jackie seemed to be done with ideal. Choosing him proved that.

He grasped the top lock of the door, but it refused to turn. "Come on..." His arm muscles strained, and his palm burned. The lock was branding his skin with an indentation, but the Fotohut was too dark for him to see it.

"What's wrong?" Jackie said behind the door.

"Damn thing's jammed! Top lock won't—"

"Give me the key at the window. I'll try from the outside."

"Worth a shot."

He met her at the window and passed her the keys. Their fingers touched through the inch-wide opening. Neither of them moved for several seconds, and their prolonged contact buzzed into his bones.

"The door," she said, and he cursed as she left him. He was farther gone than he'd let himself believe. She could maim him if he dated her, cripple whatever fueled his existence. This was his last moment to back out, but he returned to the door.

Jackie's attempts to unlock it were as unsuccessful as his. The lock knob jiggled but didn't turn. They tried unlocking it together, but their combined strength wasn't enough.

"It's no good," she said. "I'll kick down the door—"

"Don't," he said. Leo deserved better than a demolished Fotohut. "I'll call a locksmith..." He pressed his lips together and exhaled through his nostrils. "You got the number of one? Only 'locksmith' I know is my cousin Phil, and his tool of choice is a crowbar."

"Dial directory assistance."

He swept his hand over the door. This place had been his fortress, and now it was his prison. No guarantee this town even had an all-night locksmith

"Steven?"

"I'm callin'!"

His jaw tensed as he dialed the Fotohut's phone. But an operator connected him with a twenty-four locksmith, who arrived ten minutes later. Guy had the door open in five, and Jackie thrust a flashlight at his chest. She must've helped him disassemble the lock.

"Steven!" She barreled into the Fotohut and leapt at Hyde. He caught her awkwardly as her purse smacked his side, but he shifted his grip from her hips to her back for more stability.

Her legs latched around his waist. His own legs were shaky, and he leaned his butt against the photo-sorting counter. "Some second date, huh?"

She gazed at him a moment before kissing his sideburns, his nose, his lips. Galaxies ignited in his stomach, and a euphoric haze settled over his brain. He'd be fine staying here forever, but a coarse voice thundered into his consciousness: "Hey, buddy, wanna know why your lock seized up or not? Either way, you gotta pay me."

Jackie pecked the corner of his mouth one last time, and he lowered her to the floor. Gus, the locksmith, was scowling at them in his gray uniform. With that face, he could've been Red's younger, wiry brother.

"Chemicals corroded the metal," Gus said and brought the busted lock to Hyde. It was coated in grease, same as Gus's hands. "Lock was bound to freeze eventually."

"We don't develop film here," Hyde said, but the drive-through window had to be corroded, too. "What the hell kind of chemicals has Leo been usin' in this place?"

"Don't know, don't care. All I care about is this." Gus rubbed his thumb against his index and middle fingers. "That'll be twenty bucks."

Jackie plucked a twenty from her purse. "Thank you. Go away."

"You need a new lock installed—"

She threw another twenty at him. "Tomorrow."

"Someone could break in before then."

Hyde gestured at the open door. "Not much breakin' to do."

"Astute observation." Grease from Gus's hands stained the cash Jackie paid him. He put it in his equally greasy wallet and mimed using the telephone. "Call me when you want that new lock."

He packed his gear outside the Fotohut and drove off in his car. The engine belched smoke. The stink irritated Hyde's nose, and Jackie covered her face with her jacket sleeve.

"Should've let me take dough from the register," Hyde said once the air became breathable. "Lock is Leo's bill to pay."

"And the electricity is mine." She hugged him, and her apple-scented shampoo replaced the smell of gasoline and grease. "But I would've paid anything to get to this moment with you. Steven, you're worth it."

Sparks blazed along his spine. Only two people had ever talked about him like that: her and Mrs. Forman. But these weren't just words. Jackie had risked herself for him, tonight and months ago.

"Glad you came here," he said and held her loosely, "but if you wanna change your mind, I won't stop you." She'd tossed those twenties like they were nickles. Whatever her expectations of him were, he had to break them now. "I make three bucks an hour—"

"And my heart crazy, so shut up about money." She nestled herself deeper into his arms. Her hair tickled his cheeks, but her warmth kicked his misconceptions to the next universe. This wasn't where he thought he'd end up, how he'd end up.

"Hope you like picnics." He backed off from her and laid his jacket properly on the photo-sorting counter. From a nearby shelf, he snagged his bag of potato chips and six-pack of root beer. "Not exactly The Vineyard menu—"

"It's perfect," she said, and he quirked up an eyebrow. "Fine. Perfect would be a restaurant on the Champs-Élysées or in Disneyland's fake Paris. But I'd rather eat potato chips with you than filet mignon with anyone else, even Shaun Cassidy."

He let himself laugh freely. He dug that she'd told the truth, not just about the picnic but about everything tonight. "You're a cool chick, man," he said and helped her sit on the counter.

"I'm cool?"

He sat beside her and gave her a root beer. "Cool comes in a lot of varieties, but yeah. You are."

"That is the nicest thing you've ever said to me!" She squeezed his knee and accepted the potato chip he offered. "And this date has gone from almost perfect to absolutely perfect."

"That mean I'm off the hook for expensive nights out?"

"I know you can't afford to take me to Paris or even the Vineyard, but I do expect effort."

He slung his arm around her shoulders. Showing her how he felt, now that feeling it was safe, wouldn't be a problem. "Effort I got in abundance. Been saving it for the right girl."

She grasped his hand and pressed a kiss into his fingers. "I love that I'm the right girl."

He used to hate that she was, back when he hadn't been the right guy for her. But that corroded part of his life had fallen away, and he kissed her temple. He'd been the right guy all along. Just took both of them a little while to figure it out.


End file.
